


it feels like we're ready to crack these days, you & i

by softirwin



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, im soryr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 13:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1746809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softirwin/pseuds/softirwin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not really that pathetic that Ashton’s got tweet and text notifications on for Luke. Not really.</p><p>So when the banner comes up at the top of his screen, his phone pinging twice as both notifications come through, Ashton clicks on it without reading any of the preview. He doesn’t know if that was a good decision or not.</p><p> </p><p>  <em>@Luke5SOS: It feels like we’re ready to crack these days you & I</em></p><p> </p><p>(reposted, adapted and lengthened from tumblr)</p>
            </blockquote>





	it feels like we're ready to crack these days, you & i

**Author's Note:**

> this is from tumblr oops but i made it a lot longer and changed it like pretty much entirely wow i'm sorry
> 
> kudos to ania for facetiming me throughout the majority of this and putting up with me for like an hour as well as like two hours earlier and for being my best friend and existing and still being my friend after five years and generally being a wonderful human being i love you

It’s not really that pathetic that Ashton’s got tweet and text notifications on for Luke. Not really.

So when the banner comes up at the top of his screen, his phone pinging twice as both notifications come through, Ashton clicks on it without reading any of the preview. He doesn’t know if that was a good decision or not.

_@Luke5SOS: It feels like we’re ready to crack these days you & I_

Ashton’s heart drops, stomach plummets, because he knows what that’s about. That’s about him and Luke, about the strong suggestion that they hang around with Gemma in sight of a few fans, about the pressure that’s being put on them to act less like what they are and more like what they’re not.

(Ashton kind of hates Louis sometimes, for bringing them into this world. He wants to be like Jack and Alex, not like Louis and Harry. This was never what he started out to achieve.)

So Ashton gets up, leaves his bunk and goes into the back lounge, finding Luke still glued to his phone with a distant, cloudy-grey expression on his face.

"Luke?" Ashton’s voice sounds too loud in the silence of the room and it makes Luke jump, looking up from his phone with wide eyes.

"Ash?" he says.

"I saw your tweet," Ashton says, figuring it’s easier to get straight to the point. Luke swallows, looks down, wraps an arm around himself.

"Oh," he says.

"That’s not how it has to be," Ashton says quietly. "We’re not- we don’t- it’s not like that. I love you."

"I know," Luke says. "It just- it feels that way. Feels like she’s going to tear us apart."

"El hasn’t torn Louis and Harry apart, has she?" Ashton says, and Luke shrugs.

"Might as well have," he mutters, toying with his phone; a nervous habit. He’s scared. "They can’t even talk to each other anymore."

"But Gem knows that," Ashton says, and Luke flinches at the nickname. "Gemma."

“‘S alright,” Luke says, and it comes out cold. “You can. Like.” He waves a hand around, leaving his thought unfinished.

"I don’t  _want_  that,” Ashton says, growing frustrated with the way he can’t word anything and the way Luke isn’t understanding the subtext of what he  _can_  word. “I want  _you_.”

"Then why are you letting them?" Luke snaps. "Why’re you letting them get to us like they got to Harry and Louis?"

It’s a good question. Why  _is_  Ashton letting them get to the two of them, splinter them like they did to two of their closest friends?

It’s not like Calum and Michael would care if their career went down the drain when Luke and Ashton came out. They’ve had countless band meetings about it, all ending in a frustrated Calum yelling “we don’t give a fuck what happens as long as you’re fucking happy and you’re not happy right now, so do something!” and storming out of the room, Michael in tow.

And it’s not like Ashton and Luke will have many  _more_  comments about their sexuality to deal with. Half their fanbase come from more pop-punk oriented groups like All Time Low, who are either more accepting or don’t give a fuck, or both. It’s not like they’re trying to appeal to a younger audience like the One Direction boys with their vague, romantic song lyrics. It’s not like it’ll have much effect on them.

So why is he?

"I don’t know," he whispers, when he figures too long has passed.

"I hate it," Luke says, and he sounds weak and tired and vulnerable and all Ashton wants to do is cuddle him, hold him close and feel skin on skin and know he’s  _there_.

"Me too," Ashton says quietly. "I want to be with you."

"You are," Luke reminds him.

"Openly."

"You could be."

The words sting, sort of, because Ashton knows they mean  _it’s down to you; we could be out, if it weren’t for you_. It makes him feel like he’s at school again, hasn’t done his homework and is getting the clichéd  _you’re letting yourself down_  speech only this time it hits home.

"I didn’t mean that," Luke says, seeing the way Ashton’s face falls and his eyes dull. They both know he’s lying.

"I’m sorry," Ashton says. "Sorry I don’t- do enough. Sorry I’m not always what you want me to be. Sorry." The last word is a whisper, although Ashton doesn’t mean for it to be. Luke doesn’t say anything for a while, and then he just sighs.

“I’m going to bed,” he says. “I’m too tired for this.”

He doesn’t even hug Ashton, doesn’t kiss him goodnight, doesn’t say anything as he pushes past him, and Ashton feels his heart splinter a little.

-

The next time Ashton really notices something is up is when they’re standing in the lobby in their hotel, tired and jet-lagged and really just wanting to sleep, and Luke goes to stand next to Michael, resting his head on his shoulder.

“Can I room with you?” he asks sleepily. Michael frowns.

“Aren’t you rooming with Ashton?” he asks, clearly not realising that Ashton’s like, _right there_ and can hear _everything_.

“Wanna room with you,” Luke says, and Ashton swallows, clenching his fists when Michael shrugs and nods.

Okay then.

-

“Is everything okay between you and Luke?” Calum asks carefully that night, once Ashton’s showered and pyjama’d and ready to fall between the sheets and try to forget about everything that’s happened over the past few days.

“Yeah,” Ashton lies.

“Are you sure?” Calum asks. “I mean, you usually room together.”

“Just wanted a break,” Ashton says breezily, getting into bed. “You’re my best friend too, right?” Calum smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, worry still predominant in them.

“But I’m not your boyfriend,” he says.

“Yeah, well,” Ashton says, rolling away from Calum so he doesn’t have to look him in the eye. _Luke’s not acting like much of one either_ , he thinks, but he doesn’t add it on.

-                                         

“That was _amazing_ ,” Calum says as they walk offstage, grinning brighter than Ashton’s seen in a long time.

“Courtesy of me,” Michael says, patting him on the back.

“Someone call an ambulance,” Ashton mutters. “Michael’s delusional.” Michael hits him upside the head as he walks past, and Ashton makes a noise of protest.

“Sadist,” he says, pointing a finger at Michael accusingly.

“I’m just trying to bring out your repressed masochist kink,” Michael tells him as they file into the dressing room. “Hey, Lukey, how’s it going?”

“Good,” Luke mumbles, although it doesn’t sound good. He’s already glued to his phone.

“Jesus,” Calum says, shaking his head at Luke. “These kids and their technology.”

“I’m _seven months_ younger than you,” Luke reminds him.

“Seven months weaker birth game than me,” Calum says.

“Does that even make sense?” Michael asks.

“Don’t _you_ question it,” Calum says. “You’re my bitch.”

“Excuse me?” Michael says. “When did you decide _I_ was the submissive one?”

“Maybe after the fifty thousandth time you let me pin you down on a bed?” Calum says nonchalantly.

“What?” Ashton asks. “I can’t believe I’m finding out Malum is real. Where’s my phone? I need to tweet that.”

“No!” Michael squawks, kicking out at Ashton. “It’s not! I don’t let him do that! Don’t listen to his lies.”

“Me? Lie?” Calum says in a mock-scandalised tone. “This is blasphemy.”

“You’re not God,” Ashton tells him.

“You’re going to hell,” Calum says, pointing at him.

“He’ll probably enjoy it,” Michael says. “What with his repressed masochism kink.”

“I _don’t_ have a masochism kink,” Ashton says. “Stop using that as an excuse to abuse me.”

“Since when do I need an excuse?” Michael says, grinning at him, and Ashton wishes there were a knife or something equally sharp that would sort out the problem known as Michael Clifford.

“I’m going to cut your dick off in your sleep,” he tells Michael.

“You’ll have to bring a magnifying glass,” Calum says. “Or maybe a telescope.”

“You’re going _down_ , Hood,” Michael says, launching himself at Calum, who squeals ( _manfully,_ he insists later) and tumbles to the ground, the two of them rolling around with intertwined limbs yelling abuse at one another.

“Why are they still friends?” Ashton asks Luke, shaking his head.

“Because they don’t let anyone tear them apart,” Luke says, and _ouch_.

“Luke, can we-“

“I don’t want to talk about it now,” Luke says, and then he pockets his phone and just walks out of the dressing room, leaving Ashton staring helplessly at the door as it shuts behind him. Michael and Calum stop fighting at the sound of the door banging shut, Michael sitting up from where he’s straddling Calum to look at Ashton.

“You alright?” he asks. Ashton swallows.

He doesn’t know anymore.

-

“Hey,” Ashton says as he grabs his coffee and makes his way over to the table in the corner where Gemma’s sat. “Thanks for coming to see me.”

“No problem,” Gemma says, smiling at him and getting up to give him a hug. “How did you even find this place?” It’s a tiny, tucked-away coffee shop that Ashton had accidentally stumbled upon on their last trip here, one that he’d never seen any customers in and had served delicious coffee; a win-win situation, in Ashton’s eyes.

“Found it last time we came here,” Ashton tells her, sitting down and putting his hoodie on the back of his chair. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Gemma says admiringly. “So. What’s up?”

“I feel like I’m whining,” Ashton says, pouting a little. He doesn’t want to be _that_ friend.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Gemma says. “Whine away.” Ashton smiles a little at that – he kind of loves Gemma, although they’ve had their ups and downs – but it turns into a sigh as he starts reliving everything he’s got to put into words.

“It’s Luke,” Ashton says, and Gemma nods knowingly.

“Is it because of us?” she asks. Ashton shrugs.

“I don’t think so,” he says, but it’s careful and unsure. Luke knows Ashton’s like, one hundred percent into him, right? He might not be one hundred percent into dicks but he is definitely one hundred percent into Luke’s dick. “I mean, it might be. But I’m like, his boyfriend. Or. I don’t know.”

“Did he break up with you?”

“Not explicitly,” Ashton says. “He just…won’t talk to me. And when he does, it’s all snide and cold and- I don’t know what I’ve done, like…” he trails off with a sigh. “And every time I ask him if we can talk about it, sort it out, he bails and walks away. How can I possibly sort anything out when I don’t know what I’ve done and he won’t let me fix it?” Gemma wrinkles her nose, scratching at the back of her neck.

“That’s a bit shit,” she admits after a moment. “If you’re trying to sort things out and he’s just walking away, I mean.”

“I know,” Ashton says helplessly. “I mean, like, what else can I do?”

“I had a friend like that once,” Gemma says suddenly. “She used to push away all of her friends and boyfriends and make them come running to her because it made her feel wanted and special and showed her that they really cared.”

“Are you saying that’s what Luke’s doing?” Ashton asks doubtfully. Gemma shrugs.

“I don’t know,” she says. “You know him better than I do.”

“But he _knows_ I love him,” Ashton says. “I’ve told him.” Gemma considers this for a moment.

“You know,” she says after a while. “This sort of happened with Harry and Louis.”

“What?” Ashton says, because other than the whole weed incident he’d thought they’d had a perfect, obstacle-free relationship. Other than the whole not-being-allowed-to-come-out, Louis-having-Eleanor, Harry-being-a-serial-womaniser thing. Alright, so maybe not obstacle-free.

“Yeah,” Gemma says, sipping her coffee. “Harry got worried that the fact that they weren’t allowed to be out was because Louis didn’t want them to be out and that that meant Louis was ashamed of being with him. He barely spoke to Louis for like, a week, until Louis cornered him and made him talk.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Ashton says incredulously. “Anyone can see that Louis adores Harry. He’d do anything for him.”

“Harry’s ridiculous,” Gemma says with a sigh. “But it’s different for them, isn’t it? Because they’re not _allowed_ to be out.”

“Ouch,” Ashton mutters, and Gemma sighs.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says. “It came out harsher than I intended. But it’s true.”

“I don’t want us to be out,” Ashton says, and he’s about to add _I want us to be our own little secret, I don’t want our dates to be interrupted by screaming fans, I want it to be the way it is because I like Luke being mine and nobody knowing it_ but he happens to look up from his coffee at that exact moment and find Luke staring at him, looking hurt.

And like, that’s the most clichéd thing he’s ever heard and his timing could not have been worse and it’s like a fucking cheesy romcom where the phone _happens_ to ring at the right time, but Luke’s _right there_ and he’s looking at Ashton like Ashton just killed every member of All Time Low and maybe Luke’s mother.

“Oh,” Luke says. “Okay.” And he turns on his heel and walks out.

“Fuck,” Ashton says. “Fuck, shit.”

“What are you doing?” Gemma says. “Go.” And so Ashton does. He scrapes his chair back, sprints out of the coffee shop and looks up and down the alleyway wildly, trying to find Luke. He spots his retreating figure at the end of the alleyway, the dark end that leads to another narrow street, and he yells Luke’s name, running to try and catch him up. Luke doesn’t run away, which is kind of encouraging, but he doesn’t stop for Ashton either.

“That’s not what I meant,” Ashton says, when he’s caught up with Luke, and he’s breathless and panting from running like, two centimetres. He needs to work out more.

“I heard what you said,” Luke mutters. “I know what you meant.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Ashton says. “I meant, like, that I want us to be our own little secret. And I don’t want us to be the token gay boys of the industry.”

“What if I want to be out?” Luke says bitterly. “Have you ever thought about that? Not everything’s about you, Ashton.” And that’s fucking _low_.

“Not everything’s about you either,” Ashton says, and it comes out a little harsher than he’d intended. “You’ve been acting weird for _ages_ , won’t talk to me about it and you’re making me feel like shit about it when I don’t even know what I’ve done?”

“I came to the coffee shop to talk to you,” Luke says. “I wanted to sort it out. But then you were there with _her_.”

“ _She_ has a name,” Ashton says.

“Oh, of course she does,” Luke says, with this little hysterical laugh, and that’s the stupidest thing Ashton’s ever heard because _yes_ of course she has a name; she’s a human being.

“How did you even know I was at the coffee shop?” Ashton demands, because he’d taken Luke there _once_.

“I just knew,” Luke says, which is the worst explanation Ashton’s ever heard. “I don’t want to talk about it now, Ashton. Leave me alone.” And he slopes off, hands deep in his pockets, leaving Ashton staring at him hopelessly.

Again.

-

“Seriously, what’s up with you and Luke?” Calum says to him that night when they’re in their room at the hotel.

“Nothing,” Ashton says, but it comes out bitter.

“I miss rooming with Michael,” Calum says, and that _hurts_ , but not because Calum’s saying he doesn’t want to be with Michael, because he isn’t, but because he’s saying he misses Ashton rooming with Luke.

Which, to be honest, Ashton does too.

“I miss you rooming with Michael too,” Ashton says quietly, because it’s easier than admitting he misses rooming with Luke as well.

-

The picture breaks out on Monday morning.

“Ashton,” Calum says, walking into the back lounge, and Ashton looks up from the TV questioningly. “Have you seen it?”

“Seen what?” Ashton asks.

“The picture.”

“What picture?”

“The picture of Gemma in your hoodie.” Ashton stares at him incredulously.

“Gemma doesn’t have my hoodie,” he says.

“Gemma apparently does have your hoodie,” Calum says, chucking his phone at Ashton. It lands on Ashton’s lap and he picks it up, looking at the picture on the screen. It’s blurry, but it’s definitely Gemma and she’s definitely wearing a hoodie that he also owns.

“Oh,” Ashton says, because it all makes sense and he’s stupid but she’s also stupid and his stomach _hurts_ and Luke probably hates him right now, hates him so much. “I left my hoodie when I- when I ran after Luke.”

“Well,” Calum shrugs. “She’s wearing it. I don’t know whether you should talk to Luke or not.”

“Fuck,” Ashton whispers.

“I’m sorry,” Calum says, and he genuinely does sound sorry, which Ashton thinks might be a first for him.

“’S not your fault,” Ashton says, smiling weakly at him. He just wants to be alone right now, maybe text Gemma and ask why the _hell_ she thought that was a good idea. Calum hovers in the door for a moment, clearly torn between wanting to cuddle up to Ashton and make him feel better and wanting to leave him alone, sensing Ashton’s aversion to company right now.

“I love you,” he says eventually.

“Love you too,” Ashton says tiredly.

-

 **_Me_ ** _  
Why did you wear my hoodie Gem_

 **_Gemma_ ** _  
I didn’t think anyone would see I am so so sorry I hope this hasn’t made things worse between you and Luke I’m so sorry Ash honestly_

 **_Gemma_ ** _  
It was just really fucking cold man I hate the English weather_

 **_Me_ ** _  
There’s not much we can do about it now_

 **_Me_ ** _  
I haven’t seen Luke’s reaction yet_

 **_Me_ ** _  
I don’t know if I want to_

 **_Gemma_ ** _  
<3 good luck love _

-

“Can we talk?” Luke asks when they come offstage, and Ashton lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment – _please, no, not this, anything but this, any time but now_.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Somewhere private,” Luke says pointedly, and Ashton shrugs and walks off to one of the corridors in the maze that makes up backstage. He feels sick.

“Yeah?” he asks, once they find somewhere away from the hubbub of post-show band members and crew. Luke bites his lip.

“I think we should break up,” he says eventually. Ashton’s stomach drops.

“Why?” he asks.

“It’s not working,” Luke says. “It’s not- we’re not working.”

“Oh,” Ashton whispers. “But. I love you.”

“Don’t- don’t say that,” Luke says quietly, sounding slightly choked. Ashton doesn’t know why; he’s the one breaking up with Ashton, not the other way round.

“It’s true,” Ashton says, sounding choked himself and _fuck_ , he’s going to cry, he’s going to cry. He can’t cry, not at this, not in front of Luke. “I love you, and I don’t know what’s gone wrong with us. I don’t know what I’ve done and it hurts, and I hate it, and I just want us to be okay again. I love you and I don’t know what more I can do than love you with everything I’ve got. Which I do.”

“But you don’t,” Luke says. “You give Gemma your hoodie. You don’t want us to be out. You tell _Gemma_ you don’t want us to be out.”

“I’m _scared_ ,” Ashton says. “I don’t want to lose you. What if we come out and the pressure’s too much? How many famous couples actually stay together?” He pauses for a moment, wondering whether he should bring up the hoodie thing. “And, like, for the record, I didn’t give Gemma my hoodie. I left it when I ran after you out of the coffee shop.”

“Isn’t it better to give it a shot?” Luke says. “Like. I want to be able to hold your hand in public. I want to kiss you. I want people to know I’m yours. I want us to be out.”

“I just don’t want to lose you,” Ashton whispers. “Please don’t break up with me.” God, he sounds pathetic. Luke doesn’t answer for a while, and it feels like forty years have passed. Ashton’s got half a mind to reach up and check if he’s grown a beard.

And then suddenly, without Ashton even realising it’s happening, Luke’s kissing him, hard and fierce, backing him against the wall and like, that’s weird because it’s usually Ashton doing it to Luke but he kind of likes it, kind of likes how he can almost taste Luke’s desperation.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Luke murmurs against his lips between kisses. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Me too,” Ashton says, curling his fingers in the hair at the nape of Luke’s neck and pressing closer to him, kissing him harder. “We can come out. If it makes you happy. We can do that.”

“Fuck,” Luke curses lowly, kissing him once again and then breaking away, resting his forehead against Ashton’s. “Really?”

“Really,” Ashton says, slightly breathless from the way Luke’s kissed him. “If that’s what you want.”

“I love you,” Luke says suddenly, and Ashton realises it’s the first time he’s heard Luke say it in God knows how long.

“I love you too,” Ashton says quietly. “But promise me we’ll never change, even if we do come out. Promise me we’ll be okay.”

“We’ll never change,” Luke whispers.


End file.
